A Long Way To Go
by orangetails
Summary: *SEASON 10 SPOILER* Callen has a long way to go to recover from the unsanctioned mission to Mexico. A 'fill-in' for the missing time between 10x01 and 10x02.
1. Chapter 1

_I fear there's going to be a time jump between the end of the premiere and the beginning of episode two... So I thought I'd have a go at filling in some of the blanks. This chapter is from Sam's point of view... Callen's turn will come! I've already explored a little bit of Hetty's immediate thoughts in my one-shot 'Guilt', but hopefully we'll see some of Callen's recovery from her perspective too - let's see where those plot bunnies take this!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Mosely's words echoed over and over in Sam's mind. "Callen's got a long way to go." Shit, he hadn't realised his partner's injuries were so severe. True enough, it was unlike Callen to admit weakness, so when they had seen the shed and Callen had turned to him and said he couldn't go any further, he had felt the first twinge of real worry, but Callen was a survivor, dammit. He hadn't truly started to believe that this time there was no coming back, for either of them, until the boy had disappeared into the darkness and he had realised he simply couldn't follow him. They were sitting ducks. Helpless. Waiting to die together. Callen being Callen, he had tried to keep them both positive, but his pep talk had quickly gone bad, and when he said he could no longer talk Sam wanted to shout and scream and get up and punch something, but he couldn't. All he could do was lie there and watch his partner die in front of him, wondering which of them would go first, and if he could bear it if Callen died before he did.

Even then, the Callen luck had come through. The boy had returned with help, and Sam could have cried with relief when his rudimentary first aid had enabled his partner to open his eyes and draw breath. For a few scary seconds before that he had believed Callen was dead. Suffocated, just like Michelle. Sam hadn't been kidding when he said he couldn't lose Callen too. He couldn't.

The boy and his father had taken them to the hospital, and Sam had tentatively started once again to believe everything was going to be okay, especially when Arlo Turk turned up and left him with a weapon. He could defend them both now. He didn't know what strings Hetty had pulled to get them Medevac'd out so quickly, and he knew Mosely had somehow been involved in their rescue too, but it had cemented his faith that everything was going to be all right. Safe in the high-tech Balboa hospital, knowing they were all getting the medical care they needed, he felt secure in the knowledge it was all over. And then he'd overheard Mosely on the phone.

Shifting in his hospital bed, he looked morosely at the bag of blood still dripping in to him. He wanted to go and be with Callen. He wanted answers. How could Callen have hidden his other injuries so well? Internal bleeding, fractured vertebrae? He shook his head. He should have known. It was what Callen did.

He heard a knock on his door, and it quietly started to open. Instinctively, Sam's hand went to his gun, but he made himself take a deep breath. They were no longer in Mexico. They were in a secure Naval hospital. Still though he felt his adrenaline rising. He wouldn't feel truly safe until they were all fit and back home again. They had been lucky, but luck only went so far.

The door opened enough to reveal Hetty, and Sam swallowed. He felt certain she wouldn't have left Callen, unless…

"Hetty?" he choked.

"I wanted to pop round and see you all, while Mr Callen was still sleeping."

"Sleeping…" Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Lazy bugger." He raised a smile, and Hetty crossed to the bed and patted his hand.

"How are you, Sam?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he replied. "Be good as new in a few days."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hetty said, indulging him. It would take more than a few days before he was back on his feet. But at least he was alive, at least they were all alive.

"Thank you, Hetty," Sam said sincerely, after a pause. "Thank you for doing whatever you did to get us out."

"I believe the Assistant Director came through for you all too," Hetty said carefully. Sam could see she wasn't quite sure how she yet felt about Mosely. Neither was he. But he couldn't think about that now.

"How are Kensi and Deeks?" he asked, postponing the moment to ask about Callen. He'd been vaguely aware of them on the chopper out of Mexico. Most of the medical attention seemed to have been centred on Deeks, while Kensi refused to leave his side. He hoped that was a good sign.

"They are both okay," Hetty told him reassuringly. "Mr Deeks is awake. He suffered a major concussion, but the doctors are hopeful that he will be okay." She looked sad as she relayed news of Deeks' condition, and Sam remembered it was Hetty's intervention that had caused him to be in Mexico in the first place.

"He never would have forgiven you if anything had happened to Kensi and he wasn't there," he said, and Hetty met his eyes and smiled.

"You are right, Mr Hanna."

"And…" Sam paused. "And G? Will he be okay?"

"I believe so. In time," Hetty said, her eyes once again sad. Sam reached out and took Hetty's hand, still resting on his bed, in his. He gave it a firm squeeze. Losing Callen would be impossible for them both to recover from.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Arlo Turk's words echoed over and over in his head. "It sucks to be us." And it pretty much did right now. Though since he'd honestly thought back in the shed, with Sam, that both of them were dying, actually everything was pretty good if you looked at it that way, and he was trying to be positive, he really was. But he was bored. Already. Frustrated and bored. And fed up of the restrictive brace he had to wear day and night for the next few weeks while his spine healed. At least they'd let him come home. He didn't think he could stand it if he'd had to stay in the Balboa hospital while the rest of his team went back to LA without him. It was bad enough they were all due to return to work next week, and he was signed off for another month at least. It wouldn't be more than a month, he told himself firmly. His spine would heal, and it wouldn't take him any time at all to regain enough fitness to pass the mandatory field agent physical assessment. He'd be back with his team soon.

He wondered how Hetty was doing. When he'd woken in the naval hospital, she'd been there. He was drowsy and confused from the pain, blood loss and anaesthetic following his surgery, and when he first saw her he thought it was a dream. Reality was fire and desert and not being able to breathe. Reality was the dark shed, and Sam, and death summoning them both. He hadn't wanted to die. He hadn't wanted to leave Sam there, alone.

But Hetty's hand on his had been real. Her voice had been real. The bed, the machines, the glossy state of the art hospital. Being alive was real. He hadn't felt very alive at the time, but over the following days as his pain medication was reduced he'd gradually become more aware, had sorted the facts into the gritty present. Punctured lung. Internal bleeding. A fractured spine. He still couldn't remember the exact moment the details of his injuries had been broken to him. Nor could he remember anyone confirming the sad news that Hidoko had indeed died at the hands of the General and his men as they'd reluctantly suspected. He knew he'd been told, but whether he'd been too pumped full of drugs, or his mind had just shut down to the unwanted details, both pieces of information had settled into his brain as fact without him really being aware of how and when.

Lying on his bed, because as much as he hated to admit it, it was more comfortable than anything else for his back, his thoughts wondered again to Hetty. She had been by his side a fair bit for the two weeks he'd been in the hospital, but since he'd been discharged and returned to LA, he hadn't seen her. He gathered Sam hadn't either, and though Eric and Nell had been reluctant to divulge much of anything at all to him, citing his need for peace and to concentrate on his rehab, it appeared they too had no knowledge of the whereabouts of their leader. He hoped she wasn't getting into trouble as a result of their off the books mission. He knew she'd been against the whole idea, though she'd come through with Turk and Keane and goodness knows what other favours she had called in to get them all out of the country so quickly. There would be repercussions from Washington, he was sure, but he had faith in Hetty's contacts and abilities to extricate herself from any political backlash eventually. She could look after herself, he knew, but ever since they had rescued her from Vietnam he had felt more apprehensive than usual whenever she went off the grid.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Sam, come to help him shower and change. He wasn't allowed to do that on his own yet, because of the damn brace.

"In here," he called out, log-rolling onto his side as he'd been instructed to protect his spine before levering himself up. The nagging ache of his broken bone had increased to a sharper pain, reminding him that his painkillers were due, so he moved slowly out to the kitchen to get himself a drink and his tablets.

Sam was putting some takeaway food away in his fridge.

"Mexican," he said, turning to Callen and winking. Callen rolled his eyes. "It's good to see you on your feet again, man," Sam continued.

"Right back at you," Callen responded, looking Sam up and down. They hadn't seen each other since Sam had been discharged a week before him. He was still moving with the slightest of limps, though Callen was fairly confident anyone who didn't know him as well as he did would be unlikely to notice.

"Damn, it's good to see you full stop," Sam said in a sudden moment of unexpressed emotion.

"Don't get all soft on me," Callen said warningly. But he stood still while Sam crossed the room to clap a hand on his shoulder and pull him into a hug which he bore with good grace. He knew the events in Mexico had weighed hard on his partner, and his long spell in the ICU hadn't helped. Especially as he'd been out of it a lot of the time, and not exactly providing Sam with the reassurance that he was fine. Truth be told, he was a little emotional still himself, overcome with the relief that they had all gotten out of there in moreorless one piece. Except Hidoko, of course. He guessed Sam and the others knew, although they hadn't had a chance to speak much about it yet.

"I'm sorry about Hidoko," he said tentatively. "I know you guys got on well."

"We all got on well with her," Sam said sombrely. "She'll be missed."

"Mosely's got a lot to answer for," Callen muttered, anger briefly darkening his features as he thought again about the long weeks of rehab still ahead for him before he could re-join his team in the field.

"We all chose to go," Sam said with acceptance. "Even Hidoko."

"I guess so…." Callen worried again about Hetty. Maybe they could have planned the mission better, or he could have tried harder to keep his whole team from being involved and under fire now from the powers that be in Washington. Of course, if Sam hadn't have come, maybe he himself wouldn't still be here…. He realised his hand was absentmindedly rubbing the cut on his chest and he dropped it quickly hoping Sam hadn't noticed.

"I brought some beers," Sam said, and Callen felt his partner's eyes searchingly on him as he leant against the worktop concentrating on breathing calmly through a stab of pain. "Why don't we sit down and talk?"

"Standing's more comfortable," Callen admitted.

"You can't stand all day, surely?" Sam asked incredulously. Callen sighed.

"Lie down, mostly."

"Come on then," Sam said in a tone that brooked no argument as he picked up two beers and ushered Callen back in the direction of his bedroom. Callen eased himself down onto the bed with relief, holding his hand out for the beer.

"Thanks."

"Here's to us," Sam said, raising his bottle to clink against Callen's. "To survival."

"To luck," Callen added.

"Long may Lady Luck hold out for us both."

"I'll drink to that," Callen said, smiling as they both drank deeply.

* * *

 _A/N Thanks 'Guest' for your review - I can't reply personally, but re the alcohol, yep, he probably shouldn't be drinking - but when has Callen ever followed the rules ;-) I figured the first time he and Sam were back home with each other after all they'd been through, they'd have a beer or two together :-)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hetty's time with Callen... I'm darting around with the timeline a little here as it's all Hetty's thoughts and flashbacks. I hope it's not confusing. I am trying to keep this story as close to the arc of the show as possible, weaving some fiction in with the facts :-)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

Hetty was having a hard time maintaining her focus. She had sent Admiral Kilbride to oversee the shambles left of her office in LA while she tried to track down Mosely so that they could both deal with the aftermath of the Mexico mission in Washington together. Quite why she had expected that task to be easy, she couldn't imagine. Washington were baying for blood; an entire elite unit of the Service incapacitated and requiring treatment at the naval hospital as well as on-going recuperation, a young agent dead, and a question mark over the legal killing of Spencer Williams on Mexican soil. They wanted to hold someone accountable.

She had kept in touch with things via the Admiral as well as her own sources. Kensi and Deeks had returned home first, though she knew Deeks would require further monitoring and scans. Sam had been moved from the ICU to a regular room after a couple of days. His leg would need proper rest this time, but with the help of a blood transfusion he was well on the way to recovery, though he had stayed in Balboa until Callen was also well enough to move out of the ICU. All of them were tentatively due to return to work within the next week or two, but Callen still had a long way to go.

As much as she tried to close her mind to it, thoughts of Callen troubled her. She had spent as much time with him as she could in the hospital, though she wished it could have been more. How very close they had all come to losing him, she thought with a shudder. She replayed her words to Mosely before they had all left for Mexico in her head. "Agent Callen is as close to a son as I've ever had." It wasn't anything she hadn't thought before, but that she had voiced such a declaration so openly, and to the Assistant Director of all people, still astonished her. Mosely had looked surprised too, but dismissed it with a quick flick of her head, her thoughts on one mission and one mission only, that of Callen recovering her son. She had been blinded by everything else.

Hetty had hoped once she knew Callen was out of hospital and back in LA she'd be able to focus. Her own career was in jeopardy along with Mosely's, and whilst that didn't concern her as much as maybe it should have done, she found herself worrying that her recovering team would also come under fire. She would do whatever it took to protect them. But even though Callen was now safely back home, she found herself still distracted by how he'd been when she last saw him. It had been a hard couple of weeks. She was relieved to have been at his side when he first woke up, disorientated and confused and in a lot of pain. She'd held his hand and spoken gently to him, using her voice to gently reassure him and bring him back to the present.

As soon as he recognised her, he had tried to hide the pain he was clearly in.

"Sshhh, now," she said, resisting the urge to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead. Even her hand on his felt like an invasion of his personal space, so rarely did he allow anyone to touch him. But she kept it there, using the physical connection to ground him. "A nurse will top up your painkillers soon." She had pressed the call button as soon as she noticed his eyelids start to move. He nodded, clenching his jaw tight.

"Sam… Kens?" he started to ask, and Hetty put her finger to her lips.

"They're all okay," she said gently. "Sam is next door, and Kensi is with Deeks down the corridor. They're all here, and they're all fine." She realised in the moment of quiet closeness between them she had dropped her usual formality. Callen didn't seem to notice. He looked reassured at the news of his team, and when the nurse arrived to inject more painkillers into his IV he had already drifted back to sleep – but his hand had closed around her fingers and she treasured the feel of it there. A mother comforting her son. It felt right.

Unsurprisingly the next two weeks hadn't passed smoothly. Callen had been shocked and angered by the extent of his injuries, wanting to get up and return to LA with the others. The hospital had needed to sedate him to keep him quiet and allow his body to rest. Although she knew it was the best thing for him, she found his dazed drug-induced conversations hard to handle. It was so unlike her clear thinking, quick witted lead agent. Her brightest and best. He'd asked, repeatedly, about the well-being of his team and it was clear that although he remembered in detail everything that had happened in Mexico up until the rocket and their resultant walk through the desert, he didn't have a clear recollection of the time he'd spent in the Mexican hospital, or the helicopter extraction to Balboa. Every time he woke, he'd needed reassuring again that Sam and the others were okay, and even Sam's presence himself, visiting as soon as he had been able to leave his bed, had made little difference in those drug-hazed days.

Towards the end of the two weeks, weaned off the sedatives, he had started to push them all away, to shut down, as was his way. Driven by frustration, embarrassment, not liking to show weakness in front of any of them. She understood him well, maybe better than he understood himself, but that hadn't made it any easier for her to say her goodbyes to him, knowing she needed to leave and start to deal with the flak from Washington. Sam had been discharged a few days earlier, which wasn't helping Callen's mood, though loyal as ever he stayed in Balboa for a couple of nights to support his partner regardless of Callen trying to shun him. Eventually Hetty had managed to convince Sam that a few days on his own might given Callen the space he needed; she knew Callen would be happier to see his partner again once he was back in LA. Sam had reluctantly flown home, and now Hetty too was leaving.

Callen was just returning from one of his PT sessions when she arrived, and he was tired, which didn't get them off to the best start. He glared at her as she sat quietly in the chair next to his bed waiting for his return, and she respectfully stepped out of the room while his physical therapist helped him back into his bed. When she re-entered his room, the hardened stare was still in place, fixed on a point on the wall opposite him.

"I don't know why you're still here," he eventually said, when she sat in the chair and said nothing. "I don't need you to check up on me. I'm not a child."

Hetty refrained from saying he was behaving like one.

"Oh Mr Callen, I am not here to check up on you!" she exclaimed instead. "I'm here to say goodbye." That shook him. But still he struggled to express his pent-up emotions. He took a deep breath and turned to look squarely at her and she nodded, a curt, short little nod, and somehow in that meeting of their eyes more was said than any number of words could express. She stood, slowly, and reached tentatively to put her hand on his, giving it a squeeze. He gave her a tight smile, rubbing his other hand over the bridge of his nose to try and conceal his emotions.

"Stay safe, Mr Callen. Rest. Allow yourself time to heal. I will see you back at home." She didn't say when. She didn't know. For both of them, the repercussions of the unsanctioned mission might last a while yet.


	4. Chapter 4

_I'll be honest... I've lost my mojo a little with this after seeing episode 2, which left me feeling a bit cheated and 'empty'. I don't think it was a bad episode - in fact I think if it had been an'ordinary' episode, maybe episode 3 or 4, I would have liked it. But as episode 2, as the immediate follow on to the pace and drama of both the S9 finale and the S10 premiere, it just felt a bit weird, and like it was missing something... Like I'd started a movie half way through._

 _However. I won't leave a story unfinished, so I will get on with getting Callen back to work (and the episode 3 promo looks like it should be a lot more fulfilling - if nothing else, Callen in a suit is always a treat for the eyes! :-) ) One more chapter after this one I think._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

Callen ran up the hill, feeling the nagging ache in his back intensify. Reluctantly he slowed to a jog, his steps choppy. He stopped, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees and panting hard. He'd lost more fitness than he realised in his enforced time off. Already over two months and counting. It was driving him crazy.

"Should you be doing that?" a familiar voice called from a car pulling up behind him. He shook his head. He'd been so focused on his fitness – or lack of it – that he'd lost awareness of what was going on around him. He turned to see Sam grinning out of the Challenger's open window, though there was a hint of concern behind the wide smile.

"What are you, my mother?" Callen retorted, unable to think of anything more original. Sam chuckled.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"I can walk…"

"Sure you can. But I'm here and I'm passing, so you might as well hop in." Sam was giving him a get out clause, and he accepted gratefully, stepping round and easing himself carefully into the low seat of the Challenger.

"How's it going?" Sam asked.

"Slowly," Callen admitted reluctantly. He was finding the gruelling weeks of rehab hard going. Knowing his team were all now back at work left him feeling frustrated and ostracised. Partly his own doing, he knew, as he'd been avoiding contact with them as much as possible, whilst discreetly keeping tabs on how they were all doing without him. After six long weeks he'd finally been given the go ahead to stop wearing the brace, but the exercises to re-strengthen the wasted muscles in his back were intensive and tiring and he hated how off his game he was. He tried to distract Sam from any further probing into his health. "How about you? Work okay? The place not falling apart without me?"

"Yeah. Not bad. We've been fairly quiet, thank goodness. It's all a bit boring, if I'm honest, but Deeks only started back full time last week so it's been good not to have too much on."

"You wait til your best agent is back in the field. All the good cases will come flooding in once I'm back," Callen said with a smirk.

"Did you get hit on the head as well as your back?" Sam teased. "That sounds like something Deeks would say."

"God, you're right…" Callen paused. "How is Deeks anyway?"

"He's good. I don't know what went on with him and Kensi but they seem to have sorted stuff out. The wedding is back on."

"I'm glad," Callen said genuinely. "I guess it takes the risk of losing someone to make you realise what's important." The two of them were quiet for a moment, and Callen thought guiltily of Michelle. He glanced at Sam. "Sorry." Sam waved a hand dismissively and they continued in silence for a while. Callen cursed himself for his insensitivity. It seemed his brain as well as his body was letting him down still. He'd only just stopped taking the various painkillers and anti-inflammatories he'd needed for his back and he hoped once those fully cleared his system his mental faculties would return. Some agent he was at the moment; not noticing Sam pull up behind him, making such a tactless comment in front of his best friend. He bit back a yawn and tried not to let Sam see how tired he was after his run. Sam kept driving, but he had half an eye on Callen as well.

"I'll walk from here," Callen said, indicating a street corner two blocks from the ground floor apartment he was currently calling home. Spacious, no stairs; rehab friendly. He was feeling ready to move on, he just couldn't decide where.

"I'll join you for lunch," Sam said, pulling the Challenger into a vacant parking spot on the side of the street. He understood Callen's security paranoias. "I'll bet you haven't got anything in to eat, have you?"

"Erm…." Callen said, trying to think of a suitable answer that didn't involve an out and out lie.

"I thought not. You need to eat properly, G. Your body needs good nutrition to repair itself."

"Alright, alright," Callen grumbled. They backtracked to the convenience store on the corner, and Sam loaded a basket with enough to ensure Callen ate at least some decent meals over the next week. Callen added a pack of beer and Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm celebrating," Callen explained. "No more drugs."

"I didn't say a word." Somehow Sam doubted Callen had abstained from alcohol for the entirety of the past two months anyway.

They walked the short distance back to the apartment with Sam surreptitiously watching Callen for signs of pain or fatigue. If his partner was struggling after his run, he was keeping it well hidden.

"I'll make lunch. You have a rest," Sam instructed once they got in, and Callen didn't protest which gave Sam a pretty clear indication that he was in some pain, even if he wouldn't admit it. He busied himself in the kitchen before carrying two plates into the lounge, where Callen was lying stretched out on the sofa.

"Have you got any idea how much longer til you're back?"

"Oh I don't know," Callen sighed, moving to sit up so they could eat. "Not much longer, hopefully."

"Don't rush it."

"What, you don't miss me?" Callen said it as a joke, but Sam detected a hint of insecurity under the witty reply. He answered in kind.

"Well, DeChamps is less grumpy, a better conversationalist, a hell of a lot more attractive…" he winked. "Seriously. DeChamps is great. We work well together, and she's enjoying the experience in LA. But we're all missing you." Sam paused. "We're all missing Hetty. Have you heard from her?"

"Once. She rang me." Sam looked at Callen with surprise. "Burn phone," Callen expanded. "Checking up on my rehab." He made a face.

Sam snorted before becoming serious once more.

"Whatever she's doing, she's staying off the grid then."

"Yeah. I just hope she's okay," Callen sighed.

"It's Hetty. She'll have a plan." Sam smiled with more confidence than he felt. He didn't wholly trust Mosley not to throw them all under a bus. The Executive Assistant Director could make life very difficult for all of them if she felt like it. He hoped there would be a degree of gratitude and maybe even guilt after what they'd all done for her and her son, but out of sight out of mind… if she had a chance to save her own skin, her own career, now that she was distanced from the immediate aftermath of Mexico, he wouldn't put it past her to try.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm very sorry for the huge delay in the final chapter..! That thing called 'life' has an unfortunate habit of getting in the way of writing time ;-)_

 _I have mixed thoughts on the new season still..! I'm looking forward to the next couple of episodes looking like they will give us some of the promised backlash from the Mexico mission; it hasn't been as prominent as I'd hoped thus far and I'm still finding the time jump a tad unrealistic (when are we going to see Hetty again? :-( )_

 _Hopefully this chapter brings this little 'fill in' between 10x01 and 10x02 to a satisfactory close - I have tried to fit it in to the story arc on the show even though that hasn't gone quite as I might have hoped after the first episode!_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

The weeks passed slowly for Callen, and though his rehab took up much of his time and energy, he found himself often bored. Though he knew it was his own fault for pushing them away, he missed his team, missed working with Sam. Missed the light-hearted banter, the teasing, the often taken for granted camaraderie. He slipped without realising back into his old habits that had led to him being known as 'the Ghost', blending into the background of the busy LA hubbub as, hidden in plain sight, he occasionally tracked his partner and his team, unconsciously re-honing his agent skills that had taken a back seat during his recovery so far.

He made sure his team didn't notice his presence on the occasions he sighted them. He didn't want any of them to feel he was checking up. Nor was he yet cleared for active field work, though he was frequently back in the Mission now to work out in the gym, but only after hours. He didn't yet feel like making small talk with anyone he might see there during the day. He suspected Sam knew he had started working out again: on the rare occasions Sam had managed to get hold of him, he had made many increasingly less subtle hints about a dearth of suitable gym buddies and the various new techniques he was using for his training. But at the moment, still off his game physically, Callen preferred going it alone.

One morning the loneliness was weighing particularly heavy and Callen felt he'd even have welcomed Deeks' inane drivel rather than the silence that followed him everywhere he went. Tracking Sam and deChamps to downtown LA, he stopped to purchase a coffee and a breakfast pastry, watching from a distance as Sam and his temporary partner laughed and joked their way into a building a couple of blocks from him. They worked easily together, effortlessly comfortable with each other and yet underneath the light-hearted exterior, Callen knew they both had each others backs without question. He was glad. He hated not being there while Sam was out in the field, but he felt more comfortable knowing Sam was with the older and more experienced deChamps than Nell or another fledgling agent.

Sitting at one of the many tables and chairs outside the café where he had bought his breakfast, Callen was lost in thought until he heard a commotion down the street, and the all too familiar voice crying 'Federal Agents!' He looked up to see Sam hotly in pursuit of a young man wearing a dark hoody. The sight knocked Callen a little for the man was dressed so similarly to the hooded stranger he had chased all those years ago from his sister's grave, and from his dreams ever since. But this man was real, and he was running fast, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he pushed through the crowded sidewalk, knocking anything he could as he went to impede Sam's progress behind him. He ran with his head mostly turned over his shoulder, eyeing Sam chasing him, and Callen thought it a miracle he moved so fast and agile whilst appearing to barely be looking where he was going. It was clear he had no intention of being caught.

Callen moved from his table which was directly in the young man's path to lean casually against a nearby half-wall, planted with tall shrubs and creating a small garden area for the café's tables. He kept his head down, looking for all the world as if he were oblvious to the approaching commotion but he had half an eye on the approaching youth. Even so, he felt more than saw the man's frantic approach and at exactly the right moment casually Callen extended his right foot so that the hooded runaway tripped, flying face down amongst the tables and chairs scattered by fleeing bystanders. Callen nudged the nearest table he had recently vacated causing it to fall on top of the runaway, before standing back to watch Sam's rapid arrival. Sam flung the table to one side, putting his knee in his suspect's back whilst simultaneously handcuffing the man's arms behind his back. He pulled the suspect roughly to his feet and only then did he catch sight of Callen, still standing against the wall.

"What the…!" he exclaimed, but he was interrupted by deChamps running in to the scene from the other side of the café, having obviously taken the building from the rear. Sam bundled the suspect in her direction before turning gruffly back to Callen.

"Didn't expect to run into you here," Callen said, one of his infuriating smirks firmly in place as he greeted his breathless partner.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "You're not cleared for work yet!"

"It's good to see you too, partner," Callen winked. "I'm just grabbing my morning coffee." He raised a hand which still held the steaming takeaway mug and took a sip, eyeing Sam over the rim. "Sorry, I didn't get you one."

Sam shook his head. "So you're saying you just 'happened' to be here? Right place, right time?"

"Well some might say the wrong place, wrong time," Callen answered cheekily, looking at the trail of destruction left by the man Sam had been pursuing down the street. Tables and chairs outside the café lay strewn in all directions, and beyond that further chaos reigned as shop front displays lay knocked to the floor, along with some less fortunate shoppers who hadn't been quick enough to move out of the way as the runaway suspect forced his way through the busy sidewalk. "Anyway. You're welcome." His eyes twinkled and Sam rolled his eyes to heaven.

"I would have got him."

"Sure you would. I didn't do anything. I'm not even here, right?" Callen winked, and with unconcealed pleasure Sam clapped a hand to his shoulder.

"Damn I've missed this," he said. "How's it going?"

"Well, you know…" Callen shrugged.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

"Getting there. Okay? And don't think I haven't noticed all those snide remarks about workout buddies. Soon. But I don't want all my hard work undone by you coming down too heavy on me." Callen absentmindedly rubbed his back. It still ached, maddeningly, now and then. Sam nodded.

"Well. I guess I'd better be getting back to it. Getting this weasel back to the boatshed for a little chat…" Sam looked to where the hooded youth was still squirming in deChamps' grasp, taking a reluctant step away from Callen towards them both.

"Don't be too noisy. I might need a morning nap after all this excitement." Sam paused mid-stride to look back at Callen, but his partner's face was a grade one blank.

"How about I meet you there in a few?" deChamps spoke for the first time, sensing that the two partners needed longer to talk. Sam nodded.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Of course," she smiled, shooing him back towards Callen.

"Buy you a coffee?" Callen offered, raising his still unfinished cup.

"Sure, whatever," Sam mumbled, still confused. They queued in silence while Callen bought another two drinks, discarding his half-cold one, and then followed Sam back to where he had parked the Challenger. They got in, and Sam drove slowly in the direction of the boatshed, pulling up a short distance away.

"I've been living in the boatshed," Callen admitted, deciding to come clean.

"You…" Sam was silent. Eventually he shook his head. "Nah. We'd have noticed! We've all been using it for interrogations and stuff."

"Yeah. Well I have." Callen was momentarily defensive.

"Well… why?"

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go," Callen said simply.

"You're like a cat returning to…"

"Yeah, yeah," Callen flapped his hand. "You've said that before. I got bored moving. Figured the boatshed was as safe as anywhere, til I have time to figure something else out."

"You seem real busy, tracking us and all…"

"I wasn't…." Callen paused, knowing Sam had him beat. "Okay, I was. Consider it part of the rehab."

"I guess I'm glad you haven't lost that particular skill set."

"Of course not," Callen smiled. "Got to have your back, haven't I?"

"Always," Sam said. "Always. And I've always got yours."


End file.
